


Playtime

by neeve_fic (neevebrody)



Category: Dawson's Creek, Thoughtcrimes (2003)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-12
Updated: 2010-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neeve_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could have gone to the library, but he'd promised Brendan he wouldn't spend all his nights studying away from home. In turn, Brendan gave him his space and usually refrained from distracting him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playtime

With the possible exception of real estate transactions, contract construction had to be the most tedious, mind-numbingly boring area of law. The required reading was a real snoozer and had Vince struggling to keep his eyes open. It was already after nine, and by the time he walked into Professor Lehman's contracts class at 08:00 in the morning, he needed to have a draft of an agency agreement to hand in.

The low din from the television in the other room and Brendan's sporadic bursts of laughter weren't helping matters. It had been a mixed blessing - the addition of several 24-hour cartoon stations to their local cable lineup – some nights he and Brendan would sit up much too late, hopelessly transfixed by animated characters they hadn't seen since they were kids. On the plus side, cartoons they hadn't seen since they were kids. God, it was seriously, endearingly whacked the way Brendan knew all the words to a dozen theme songs, and the way Vince pictured him singing along with them at odd, inopportune times during the day.

He could have gone to the library, but he'd promised Brendan he wouldn't spend all his nights studying away from home. In turn, Brendan gave him his space and usually refrained from distracting him. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly immersed himself again in the typeface barbiturate lying on his desk. As the words began to run together, he had that creepy feeling of being watched. Turning around, in dawned on him that he couldn't hear the television anymore.

Brendan stood in the doorway, undoing the last button on his shirt; the rest of his body covered only by a white tee shirt and blue and white stripped boxer shorts. "Time for a break," he said, letting his shirt fall to the floor.

Vince took a long look from broad shoulders to bare feet and groaned as Brendan pulled the tee shirt over his head. "What I _need_ to do is finish this chapter and draft a contract for tomorrow." Brendan appeared unimpressed. "Seriously, Bren, I'm just covered up."

"No harm in a little break." Brendan walked over and slipped his hands over Vincent's shoulders.

"We talked about this, remember?" Vince looked up at Brendan, who held eye contact. "It's a lot of work and it's already—"

"Exactly. All this work and no play makes Vincent nod off at his desk. C'mon, fifteen minutes." He tried hauling Vince up, but Vince pulled away.

"Dammit, Brendan. I can't, okay." He got free of Brendan's grasp, stuck his legal pad inside his book, and stood up. "I'll just finish up at the library."

"Library closes in thirty minutes."

Vince gathered his things. "Dante's then, or Fleishmann's. Anywhere I can get some coffee and some quiet."

He started for the door, but Brendan grabbed his wrist, spilling books and papers, making for a very pissed off Vincent. But inside of ten seconds, Vince found himself flat on his back, Brendan straddling his waist, holding Vince's arms above his head.

"The fuck, Bren… what—"

Brendan leaned close, smiling sweetly, that damn sexy cologne of his swirling around like a disembodied spirit. "Why didn't you say something? I could've made coffee." He was so close they were both breathing the same air.

"Yeah, well you seemed a little occupied with the latest troubles at Spacely Sprockets—I hated to interrupt."

Brendan stared at him a moment then cocked his head. "Have you ever noticed the disturbing similarities between Mr. Spacely and Mr. Slate? Spacely's always giving George shit and Slate's always on Fred's ass. What the fuck is up with that?"

Vince drew his lips together and bit. He wanted so much to hold on to his ire, but the combination of that incredible statement and Brendan's boxer-clad ninja act had him right on the edge of laughing out loud.

"You can take a fucking fifteen minute break, Vince." Those words were a bit more breathless as Brendan began to mouth his way along the curve of Vincent's jaw over to his neck.

Vince gave a little whimper and turned his head, offering Brendan more, thinking maybe a quick blowjob might not be out of order at that. He tried to lower his arms to wrap them around Brendan, but Brendan held fast. Okay, if that's the way Bren wanted it. Vince relaxed and arched up into his lover.

Brendan answered by licking a stripe up the length of Vince's neck, making Vince shiver and try to free his arms again. The blood was pooling south in a big damn hurry and he really needed to touch Brendan… now.

Brendan closed his lips over the protruding tendon, took a deep breath and… blew… hard.

The god-awful rude noise hung in the air as Brendan dissolved into a fit of giggles, letting go of Vince and catching him right below the ribs before Vince could stop him.

"Oh, you bastard…" Vince tried to fight off Brendan's hands but they seemed to land on every ticklish spot he owned. He looked up into those playful, little-boy eyes and fell into his own fit of laughter, wresting to keep Brendan still so they could both get a good breath.

Brendan ducked to cover his privates and that was all Vince needed for an advantage. Snaking a leg around Brendan's waist, Vince flipped him. He dove for Brendan's neck to exact a bit of retribution, but Brendan successfully fought him off time and again, finally coming away with Vincent's face cradled in his hands. They both stopped then, breathing hard, smiles fading.

Brendan pulled Vince to him and Vince let him. The kiss was slick and hot and Vince melted into it, letting Brendan carry him away…

And in another ten seconds, Vince was on his back again, hard-on pressing uncomfortably against his jeans. He looked down at Brendan's tented shorts and smiled. Brendan bent quickly for another kiss, then got up.

"I'll have the coffee ready in a bit," he said, extending his hand to Vince.

"You're kidding, right? This is your id—"

"C'mon, Vince, you've got homework to finish." The mother-henish tone was totally inconsistent with the way Bren was stroking across the bulge between his legs. Vince could just see the outline of a testicle up through the leg of the boxers. "Playtime after… I promise to make it worth the wait." The look in Brendan's eyes seemed to back him up.

Vince lay there, the heel of his hand pressing on his own bulge, glaring up at Brendan with a kind of contemptuous adoration. When Vince declined the offer to help him up, Brendan shrugged and padded to the door.

"Bastard," Vince muttered and he heard Brendan snigger as he left the room.

Retrieving his things from the floor, Vince could hear the sounds of Brendan making coffee, and, God help him, whistling the Flintstone's theme song.

He turned and looked fondly at the doorway. Oh yeah, it would be worth the wait all right. It would always be worth the wait.


End file.
